The old capital of the former Renea Divine Kingdom.
The Grand Cathedral, reduced to ashes, had now transformed into the provisional command post for the Holy Kingdom of Quolia.
It seemed some support had arrived from the home country, as tents were pitched in the cleared areas, and various supplies—food for distribution, medicinal herbs for treatment, and other necessities—were stockpiled.
This was the starting point where the King of Ruin had manifested, unleashing his malice and tyranny to annihilate an entire nation along with the Saintess.
Naturally, there were voices of opposition to establishing a command post in such a place.
But precisely because of that, it held meaning for the Holy Kingdom of Quolia to take root there, watch over the evil, comfort the people, and work toward rebuilding the city.
It sounded noble when spoken aloud, but in reality, the Diary of the Saints—Quolia's current highest combat force—were pinned down in this southern province.
"Inquisitor Imreis. The report on sector clearance. The report on the public kitchens. And the report on the status of the plague treatment."
"—Thank you. Please provide a brief summary of each verbally."
At the desk inside the tent, Kree Imreis, the Inquisitor, was directing the city's reconstruction while receiving reports from the Holy Knight.
In Quolia, the Inquisitor, due to the unique nature of their role, possessed a wide array of knowledge and skills.
Their authority and capabilities ranged widely: leading troops in emergencies, negotiating with foreign nations, and reconstructing cities struck by disaster.
Therefore, for Kree, acting as the Saintess's proxy to lead the Holy Knight Order and the forces here to oversee reconstruction was by no means an impossible task.
But everything was lacking.
This deployment was, after all, only under the pretext of investigation. Of course, they had brought not just Holy Knights, but also some provincial soldiers and rear-support clergy, but large-scale operations like rebuilding an entire city were naturally not anticipated.
Moreover, the devastation was spreading throughout the southern province.
Scattered villages were one thing, but several larger towns also existed elsewhere.
While the city they were stationed in was perhaps the most severely affected, that did not mean the damage elsewhere could be ignored.
And to extend a helping hand across the entire southern province, she had far too few resources at her disposal.
Honestly speaking, while the various measures Kree implemented were efficient, they were still a drop in the bucket.
"That concludes the report. Regarding the epidemic spreading through the city, fortunately many have recovered on their own, as if from a common cold. However, it is highly contagious and spreading rapidly across the entire Southern Province—we cannot be optimistic. I've discussed this with my comrades, and we believe we must prepare for a long-term struggle."
"That is unfortunate. In such cases, quarantining patients is the iron rule, but with the scale of this outbreak and our shortage of manpower, even that is difficult to achieve. It's frustrating, but our only option is to focus treatment on the severely ill."
At Kree's words, the young Holy Knight nodded, his expression bitter.
This was not an insurmountable problem. The issue was simply a severe lack of supplies and personnel.
The frustration of being unable to act as needed was clearly etched into his pained features.
Support was scant. It might sound cold, but in truth, the homeland—Quolia—was not simply sitting idle with fingers crossed. If the El-Nar Treaty Union fell, an age of inevitable war loomed ahead. With confirmation of the Ruin King's activities, Quolia itself was also being consumed by the urgent necessity of reorganizing its military.
The Holy Capital was undoubtedly in chaos right now, with Holy Knights undergoing retraining and the army being restructured. Quolia had not experienced war in a very long time.
Setting aside the immobile Saint of the Central Diocese, merely moving the Saint of the Diary—the only other active Saint—could be considered an act of considerable goodwill. Perhaps her courage in deploying the Saint under these circumstances should even be praised.
Yet, this did nothing to improve the situation... The curse brought by the Ruin King weighed heavily upon them all.
"However, there is good news as well. Thanks to the efforts of the Cardinal who took concern over the local situation here, reinforcements of medical priests from the homeland have been dispatched. It is a difficult situation, but given time, I believe we can bring it under control."
"I see. The outlook on the epidemic is clearer then. However, the next matter is somewhat more troublesome."
Kree felt a slight sense of relief as a path to resolution for the highly contagious epidemic plaguing the city became visible.
How simple it would be if that were the only problem to solve.
But this next issue was far too inexplicable to hope for resolution through the mere passage of time.
"The issue concerns those who have forgotten their faith, then..."
"Honestly, the current situation is quite difficult to manage. We are currently searching the forbidden archives of the Amritate Grand Cathedral, but there are no texts resembling relevant descriptions, leaving us completely without clues."
"That is not good. The dark arts are strictly forbidden within Quolia. Even for research purposes, possessing related texts would result in capital punishment. Unfortunately, information cannot be obtained."
"Does the Inquisition Bureau perhaps know anything?"
"Only sacred works may counter dark arts. To understand or unravel them at all—that is itself an error."
"My apologies for the question."
It was not exactly a praiseworthy inquiry, but Kree had no particular intention of paying him any mind.
The Inquisition Bureau was not an organization that pounced on the words of believers to condemn them, and above all, right now every hand was needed.
He understood such matters naturally; rather, the position of Inquisitor required more patience than usual.
Therefore, in this place, someone who spoke his thoughts aloud like this was more appreciated.
Even if it was the recklessness born of youth.
"Their memories are lost. And specifically, only their faith. What an utterly evil technique. Even for me, it is painful to see those who cannot comprehend their own sorrow."
Plague and oblivion. Though they were curses from two Ruin Kings of entirely different natures, Kree silently concluded that they were efficiently dragging this southern province into chaos.
It would have been easier with just one.
If it were only the plague, all clergy currently in the southern province could be mobilized for treatment.
If it were only oblivion, then once city functions were secured, re-evangelization could be carried out sequentially.
But it was both.
It was because both were occurring simultaneously that their movements were restricted, as if stuck in a deep, sticky mire.
It was unclear what purpose the Ruin Kings had in unleashing these curses upon this land.
But the fact that it did not simply bring destruction or death undoubtedly meant some sinister intent lay hidden.
"I shall speak with those who have been victimized again later as well. Perhaps there are realizations that were overlooked."
Another round of interrogations with those who had lost their faith.
After the first few times, hardly any new information could be gleaned, but that was no reason to stop.
Kree made it clear she intended to persist in her investigation with unyielding patience.
"Understood. I shall make the arrangements at once. Then—may God’s grace be with you."
"Thank you. May God’s grace be with you as well…"
The young holy knight bowed deeply and withdrew from the room.
The words he uttered upon leaving were a greeting seldom used in the Holy Church.
It was, of course, part of the doctrine, but it was a phrase generally employed during rather grandiose prayers or rituals, and was almost never heard in ordinary conversation.
Since arriving in this land, however, a fair number of people had been using that particular phrasing.
Everyone was terrified by the malevolent beings that had appeared in this world.
What would become of the future from here on out?
Kree quietly closed her eyes for a time, silently pleading for divine mercy.
◇ ◇ ◇
"You are… Ceanmach the Medic-Priest, I believe?"
Looking at the man brought before her, it took Kree a few seconds to recall his name.
If her memory served, he was a medical priest in charge of some parish within this city.
She remembered his strong faith and his considerable skill as a medic-priest.
However, the reaction Ceanmach displayed was so different from the man in her memory that she felt a sense of incongruity.
"Y-yes… And you would be Inquisitor Imreis, correct?"
"…Yes. We spoke several times back when that incident with the priest’s murder occurred in this city."
"Yes... well, that is certainly true. However, I... I'm not sure what to say, forgive me."
"You seem unwell. That is not good. Please, sit over there and make yourself comfortable. This is merely an inquiry to ascertain what is happening in this place. It is not based on my position within the Church, so please put your mind at ease."
The role of inquisitor was one feared by many due to the authority it carried.
Not everyone harbored dark deeds within their hearts, but even so, what if one's gaze was ever turned upon them with suspicion? What if that suspicion led to unwanted punishment?
Confronting fear was a trial a believer should impose upon themselves, according to the teachings of the Holy Faith, and thus overcoming that fear was exceptionally difficult.
In short, this very priest, Ceanmach, was one of those who felt a dread towards Kree, the inquisitor that did not exist for others.
"Still, your demeanor has changed somewhat since we last met."
This was what had caught Kree's attention.
He—Priest Ceanmach—should have been more fearful towards her. Additionally, he should have adopted an obsequious air, ever-watchful of her mood.
He was no different from other clergy in that regard, and she held no particular distaste for it, but the contrast with the man before her now was stark enough to leave a lasting impression.
His attitude had clearly shifted from what it once was.
...Those who lost their faith all displayed this kind of change.
The followers of Saint Aros had their devotion intimately intertwined with their lives.
No one could fail to be bewildered when a defining part of themselves suddenly vanished.
Priest Ceanmach was no different.
Whether he was conscious of this himself, upon Kree's question, he shifted uncomfortably, a pained expression crossing his face as he began to speak in halting words.
"I am... uncertain if I should say this to you, but... my heart feels hollow, as if a void has opened within it. When I look back through my memories, I should have held respect and various other feelings towards you, but now I feel nothing of the sort. On the contrary..."
"You mean to say you have lost your faith in God?"
"Yes, that must be... what I have lost. But... I feel nothing at all."
"Indeed, that is most troubling."
Kree lowered his gaze slightly, turning thoughts over in his mind.
Even in their limited conversation, no particular flaw in the man's character or thinking had been apparent.
It was also unlikely he was under any form of brainwashing.
As suspected, it was the complete absence of faith itself.
The intent behind this wicked act—which could be interpreted as a declaration of war against the gods—was entirely unknown.
If the goal were clear, countermeasures might be considered, but dwelling on the designs of darkness risked ensnaring one's own footing.
However, more pressing than the adversary's purpose was the critical problem that the local clergy, individuals essential to this land's reconstruction, had collectively forgotten their faith.
This Healing Bishop Ceanmach, in particular, had proven results and ability, and commanded respect beyond his given rank.
With his aid, the plague spreading across the southern province might have been eradicated far more swiftly... but that now seemed unlikely.
The time required to rebuild this region could stretch far longer than Kree had initially anticipated.
"Inquisitor Imreis, he is but a man whose memories were stolen by the King of Ruin. I implore your leniency..."
"Fear not. My interview is merely to inquire into the circumstances. I will not make any rash judgments before I fully grasp the situation."
A young Holy Knight stepped forward, likely shielding the Bishop.
Whether born of youthful rashness or a strong sense of justice, his action of protecting a comrade before an Inquisitor at risk to himself was, in itself, commendable.
But because the foundation of his argument was a misunderstanding, Kree felt a twinge of annoyance. If this continued, his concentration would be scattered by constant interruptions.
Perhaps it would be better to explain things more clearly this time?
Just as Kree considered this and opened his mouth to speak...
"Um, I-I-Inquisitor Imreis..."
Light streamed in from the entrance of the previously closed tent as a young girl entered.
The young Holy Knight who had just moments ago been making protests fueled by youthful vigor hastily shut his eyes and bowed deeply.
While glancing sideways at Ceanmach the Medical Priest showing a bewildered expression, Kree turned to speak to the girl—the Saint of the Diary.
"Is something wrong, Lady Nerim? Have you finished writing in your diary?"
"Y-yes! I've finished writing everything from this morning."
"That is good."
With a deliberately gentle voice, Kree nodded in response to Saint Ritrain's reply.
Saint Ritrain of the Diary, whose full name was Ritrain Nerim Quoats, made it her daily duty to record in a diary—somewhat disproportionately large for her stature—the events that occurred each day.
It was a sacred thing, guaranteed in the name of the Three Popes and the Vessel Saint, something absolutely inviolable that no one was permitted to interfere with.
What was recorded were her memories.
Words of gratitude from the people, important people she had met in the past. And those who were now gone.
She recorded those memories, their words, without altering a single character.
Therefore, she had come to be called the "Saint of the Diary."
That large diary, which she always carried with her, was what made her who she was.
Clutching that diary, her precious diary, tightly to herself... Ritrain looked up quietly at Kree.
"I-I heard. Because everyone lost their memories, there aren't enough people..."
"Before that, please take a seat in the chair over there. If I let you remain standing while we talk, it will become a matter of my responsibility. Besides, you always say the diary is heavy and difficult to carry, don't you?"
"...Eh? Ah, ah! Y-yes... thank you."
The Holy Knight produced a round wooden chair from somewhere and smoothly placed it behind Nerim.
Ritrain, who had been flustered by the swiftness of the action, was still in a bit of a panic, but after a moment she seemed to calm down, murmured a small thanks, and sat down delicately.
Confirming this scene, Kree quietly nodded and gestured for the Holy Knight and Ceanmach the Medical Priest to leave the room.
But...
"Oh, as you are, it is fine. If you would, please remain here."
That was Ritrain who spoke, not words of refusal.
Whether it was a matter safe for others to hear, whether having someone else present brought peace of mind, or whether there was an entirely different reason...
Kree was suspicious, but after a moment of pondering, she finally spoke.
"Then, let us return to the matter at hand. As Lady Nerim has said, people's memories are indeed lost, and we ourselves feel the difficulty of the situation. Ceanmach, the medical priest who is there, finds himself in the same predicament, and a return to his healing duties will be difficult."
Ceanmach, the medical priest caught up in the complicated story, nodded with a look of confusion.
All the techniques employed by their holy clergy depended entirely on their faith in the divine.
They were a type of magic categorized as miracles, but performing them in a state of lost faith was impossible.
Of course, the wisdom gained through means other than miracles was still engraved in Ceanmach's mind.
However, to expect selfless devotion from one who had lost his faith was, one could say, a bit of wishful thinking.
The manifestation of the King of Ruin in this land.
The bulk of its casualties were limited to the combatants - that is to say, the holy knights.
The medical priests and ordinary clergy had not even participated in the battle; the truth was they were consumed by the ensuing chaos.
Personnel existed, but they could not be counted on. As someone who knew all too well how those without faith behaved in emergencies, Kree could only feel a sense of bitter chagrin.
"If... if everyone's faith returns, then this city... can be saved?"
Suddenly, truly suddenly.
That girl spoke, saying something strange.
"That is so... However, no method to regain faith has been discovered in the current situation. Fortunately, it is still possible to preach the new teachings of the gods. It will take time, but they should regain their devout hearts. This humble one believes so."
At Ritrain's answer, Kree's eyes wavered.
The fact that she explained the situation in such painstaking detail while flustered—was it merely a sign of her being shaken? Or did she already understand what words the diary's saint, Ritrain, would utter next? Kree's unwelcome prediction, unfortunately, proved accurate down to the last detail.
"I-I will heal him. I... I already know that I can do it with the power of my diary."
"That is unwise. Your miracle—"
"Imreis Inquisitor."
Strong, resolute words cut Kree off. It was something she had known all along. Ritrain's—her decision could be stopped by no one. And that no one had the means or the right to prevent it.
"Wh-what is it, Lady Nerim?"
Amber eyes fixed on Kree. Whatever Kree saw in those clear depths made her shift as if struck by an unseen force.
"This is the town where I spent time with Father."
"Yes, yes, I am aware, Lady Nerim. If you go down the main avenue connected to this spot and turn at the corner, the house where you lived with your father is there, correct?"
Without even needing to recall, Kree answered smoothly. There had been a time, in the past, when she was given a personal tour and told about it. By then, Nerim had already been separated from her parents, so Kree was never invited, nor did Ritrain ever return home. Yet the location and its appearance were firmly etched into her memory.
"Yes, surely, probably..."
Flipping through the diary as if to confirm something, Nerim gave a small, affirmative nod, apparently finding the entry she expected.
She was probably verifying her home's location in the diary. Kree furrowed her brows slightly at the sight.
"I've been praying, over and over, so long..."
The diary snapped shut before Kree could speak, and Litrane murmured softly.
The voice was faint, weaker than that of even a small child—a whisper so fragile it would be lost entirely if there was even the slightest noise in the room.
"Father told me: 'If you continue to do good, good things will surely follow.' Father never lies."
"Yes, High Holy Knight Veldel is a man of great integrity. He never let those words remain mere words, but always acted upon them."
"I—I've been a good girl the whole time. I've done good deeds, as much as I possibly can."
The diary's account of Saintess Litrane's monologue continued.
What drove her was her feelings for her father.
The only family she, born alone in this world, had ever managed to possess. Though their blood was not shared, the bond between father and daughter was real, and that was why it burned within her, fiercely and desperately.
Who could deny the cry of a fledgling still unable to leave the nest, calling for its parent?
Litrane's wish was something entirely unremarkable, something devoid of any special novelty.
But to her, it was more irreplaceable than anything else in the world.
"He must be so busy now, we surely can't meet, but once his mission is over, surely again..."
Having spoken too eagerly and too much, Nerim let out a deep, shaky breath.
Her father—High Holy Knight Veldel.
The man who had once been tasked with exploring the Great Cursed Realm, and had come into contact with Mynoghra.
He was someone who no longer existed in this world.
"It's a dream. Living together with father again."
Ritrain smiled, looking a little bashful.
That smile was born from the fact that she had, just a little while ago, succeeded in reuniting with her father.
Gods exist.
That wasn't some form of obfuscation or mere hope. It was an observed fact.
That was precisely why the religious nations of this world were so deeply rooted in people's hearts and had enjoyed such prolonged prosperity.
It was no exaggeration to say that the existence of gods was what sustained the people living in this country.
And so...
Ritrain continued her prayers.
Surely, the gods are watching over my efforts.
The trials are heavy and painful, but dreams come true after suffering and devotion.
Ritrain's wish—though she was a young and fragile girl—was all the stronger for that.
"I will use a miracle."
At those words, Kree could only nod.
The young girl's prayer emitted a pure, unblemished light,
and because that radiance was so overwhelmingly intense... it threatened to burn even herself to ash.